Joston
“But, Joston,” she says when she sees the turquoise Big World marriage band, the only one of the three that’s left in the box.
The smallest band is on Aeryen’s left wrist. The largest one is on mine. Perhaps that was a bit cocky of me, but it was even cockier of Nik Arca to send them with Aeryen.
When I opened the box a few minutes ago I wasn’t sure if I wanted to thank Nik or throttle him. A little of both, probably, but the moment I see Niya, everything falls into place. Because I don’t want to imagine my world without her. I refuse to.
But she hasn’t agreed yet.
“You have to agree,” I say again.
“But how can you be sure?” she says. “We hardly know each other.”
“I know you well enough to know how I feel,” I say. I hold out my wrist and show her the matching band that I’m wearing.
“I thought only the bride wore this,” Niya says. “Aymee has one but Nik doesn’t.”
“They’re old-fashioned,” I say. “Big Worlders are like that .We’re more daring.”
Niya is just holding the box, staring at the Big World marriage band inside.
“But—Aeryen.”
“Aeryen is our son,” I say. That’s when Niya starts crying.
“I’m going to send him on the Marinax by himself,” Niya says. “He can’t stay here. Not even now.”
“Aeryen’s not going anywhere by himself,” I say. “He’s going with us or he’s not going.”
“But, Joston,” Niya says through her tears.
“Why don’t you just agree?” I say. I pluck the band from the box and hold it out.
“What if it turns out that we . . . and . . . ?”
I take Niya in my arms and let her cry for a moment. I myself pretend not to cry. After all, I’m a daredevil pilot, not an emotional life mate.
“Joston,” Niya says, breaking our embrace. “Are you sure?”
“Is that a yes?”
“I asked you a question,” Niya says.
“Let’s just go with it for a few millennia and see how it plays out. If you’re not satisfied in, say, ten thousand years, we’ll renegotiate. Fair enough?”
“Fair enough,” Niya says.
I hold out the marriage band, waiting.
“Yes,” Niya says. “Yes, yes, yes. I love you, Joston.”
Overwhelmed by her words, and because I saw this once in a vid, I get down on one knee and fasten the band to Niya’s left wrist and say, “I love you, Niya Redmor. Remember that. You and Aeryen and I are a family now. Unbreakable.”
“Are we staying here?” Niya asks.
“Whatever you want,” I say. “I’ve always fancied running my own aircar business and Engra seems like a fine place to do it. Especially now.”
“But I was going to send Aeryen with Chlo and Lasson,” Niya says. “I want him to see the Seven Galaxies.”
I take Niya’s hand in mine and start steering us toward the aircar. There’s plenty of room in the cockpit for what I have in mind.
“You know that guy in the engine room, Cyrs?”
She nods.
“He jumped ship. I think he fell for someone here on Engra. It’s kind of an epidemic,” I say.
We laugh.
“Aymee said she’s got an opening and that you’d be perfect for the job. If you want it.”
I’m making all this up as I go, although Cyrs did jump ship and Aymee will need someone to replace him and Niya would be perfect for the job.
“There’s a big shipment of these on the Marinax,” I say, holding up my left hand. “They’re all the rage in the Triangulum.” I turn my marriage band around on my wrist and tap it against Niya’s.
“Then we could settle there,” she says, more smiling than crying now.
“The hell we will,” I say, mentally kicking myself for even mentioning the worst of the Seven Galaxies.
“Let’s think about it,” Niya says as we climb into the aircar.
Right now, though, I want to do something where there’s no room for mere thinking.
I’m more interested in action.
As I close the lid on the cockpit and kiss my bride, my life mate, my match, my love, a brief flash of the forest fire I flew into that day on Choryn blooms into my memory. Maybe that’s because the fire that Niya and I are starting is even more intense.
“Joston,” Niya says between kisses as we sink down farther into the seats, “wasn’t it odd that I had that dream and then we met Wilm?”
“What dream?” I say, barely coherent. I struggle with the fastenings on the back of Niya’s sundress.
“The dream where we were having a son and his name was Wilm,” she says.
I pull the sundress off over Niya’s head.
“You’re beautiful,” I say.
“Joston,” she says as she undoes my fly.
“Wilm’s a fine name,” I say. “Even finer than I ever thought.” I kiss Niya’s lips, her neck, her collarbone. She puts her hands through my hair. I look into her eyes, dark, dark violet now.
“Joston,” she says, guiding me into her as I remember to change the cockpit settings to opaque and activate the locks.
“Joston,” she says. “I’m trying to tell you something.”
But whatever that something is, it’s lost to us as we succumb to our need, our passion, our love.
Past the soaring heights of pleasure and straight through to an ecstasy unmatched in the cosmos.